The White Dwarf Desert
by RhyannD
Summary: Short, complete. A hard landing on a dusty little desert of a planet.  The rest is just P/C with a touch of R/T    Paramount is Q, I just give them the lines they *should* have had.
1. Chapter 1

The poker game was going well-at least for everyone except Will Riker-which meant it was going VERY well for everyone else. It spoke volumes as to the seasoning of those present that when the proximity alert sounded, there was a moment of contemplation, assessing the hand before them, before laying cards face down and proceeding to the front of the shuttle. No one rushed, each crew member slid into their role with the ease of familiar competence.

Just as they had filled the four Command chairs in the nose of the shuttle, the smooth baritone of the Captain sounded behind them.

"What have we got?"

"It's a debris field of some sort, wasn't on the star maps..." Will pushed commands on the computer console.

"Slow to one quarter impulse." The Captain ordered. "Let's have a look."

"Sensors indicate the debris is titanium, duranium, zilcon, transparent aluminum..." Data broke off the list, noting he was supplying more information than needed, "It appears from the composition, this was a Federation vessel."

"Where are we?" The Captain inquired.

The Doctor was filling the position of Navigator on this trip, and had already called up the information. "Just leaving the Ninan system, we won't be in direct communication range with the Enterprise for another two hours."

"Send them a subspace, tell them to divert course toward us. This could be the Kearsarge." The Captain's voice was grim. There were no known destroyed ships, in this quadrant, only missing ships.

"Subspace message sent," Counsellor Troi confirmed from Communications.

The large shuttle bucked. Will's hands dove for the manual controls.

"Mr. Data!" The Captain snapped, grabbing the handles on the rearward two seats to keep his feet as another jolt rocked the ship.

"There is nothing on the sensors, Sir, except the debris." All eyes were drawn to the viewscreen displaying the millions of pieces of ship glittering around them. The proximity alarm had been silenced, but it's steady flashing amber was the only alarm. With the battering the shuttle was now experiencing, the cockpit should be lit up like a carnival.

"We're losing power. Down to seventy-three percent." Data reported. The Captain had retreated to his seat. "Still not reading anything. No power fluctuations, no matter, no life signs."

"There's something, but... 'it'... is beyond our level of... what we can measure or scan." Deanna said softly, unsure.

"Get us out of here, Number One."

"Working on it." Will replied with less deference than he would show on the bridge. But he was physically engaged with trying to get the shuttle on a course out of the debris field.

"Power at sixty-nine percent and dropping steadily." Data reported.

"Options, Doctor Crusher?"

"Closest Class M is an unnamed planet by the white dwarf Paga. There are better choices further out..."

"I believe proximity may be our first priority." Data said, his tranquil delivery belying the meaning of his words.

"It'll be hot. And there's not much oxygen, but... enough." *Barely,* the Doctor added, under her breath.

"Doctor, set the coordinates. Counsellor, send a distress call with our location and heading." The Captain paused, "Get us there, Will." His voice softened.

Jean-Luc looked around the cabin. If whatever was out there was enough to pulverize a starship, a shuttle did not have much of a chance. On the other hand, he trusted no one more than the crew around him to find a way to beat the odds.

The shuttle continued to dip and tilt, like an ancient sailboat caught in hurricane seas. "Power now at forty-nine percent." Data reported.

"Shut down all unnecessary systems. Limit life support to minimum." The Captain's visage was grim. But short term discomfort was well preferable to death.

Few words were exchanged after that. Everyone's attention was concentrated on getting to the small planet they could now see. The jolting and bucking calmed to the occasional shudder.

"Power holding at twenty-seven percent." Data reported, when they had been out of the turbulence for a time. The temperature in the cabin had dropped, their breath made puffs in the chill.

"Is it enough for shields for atmospheric entry?" The Captain queried.

"It is, Sir, but depending on the atmosphere's density, we may not have much left for thrusters and dampers." Data looked over at the First Officer.

"So, we'll do it the hard way." Will's smile was almost feral, his eybrow raised in challenge, his hands still on the manual controls.

"I'm awfully glad you were along on this one." Beverly said. Will was still the best shuttle pilot on the Enterprise. While Data might be able to technically compute descent speed and re-entry angles at inhuman speed, Will had the feel and finesse to coax a ship for all she was worth.

"Approaching the planet's gravity well." The Doctor announced. "You can pretty much pick a spot, Will, there's not much there except desert."

"Try to avoid rocks, will you Number One?" The Captain's attempt at levity worked, chuckles puffing into the dark cold.

Deanna reached out, she felt apprehension, and some fear, but overwhelming those typical, expected emotions, were confidence and trust. Their straits were not nearly as dire as they could be, it seemed. She opened her mind to Will's, conveying the sense of assurance the Captain and Doctor felt in him. Adding her own.

Nagging behind the more positive emotions though, she felt a bleak despair from Beverly that she was trying valiantly to push away. Deanna looked at the Doctor, to see her gaze on the Captain. The empath's heart bled a little with the intensity of the feelings the Doctor let escape for a moment. Then, as if she were putting on a jacket, Beverly covered up the longing and regret, and deliberately focused on Will and encouraging thoughts. Deanna tucked the information away as the bumpy ride began again. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hot. Hot and dry. The heat was so oppressive around him that he didn't feel like he could get enough air. Jean-Luc pushed through the disorientation. He had only barely lost consciousness, he thought. He remembered the entry and descent, Will's valiant effort to control the landing as power failed completely.

He felt pressure on his shoulders and chest. When he opened his eyes, his brain initially refused to interpret his surroundings. Finally he sussed out the shuttle was on it's side, and not entirely intact.

Movement ahead of him caught his eye. Data was lowering Will from his seat-which now was three metres up in the air. Will groaned. Jean-Luc found Deanna's mass of dark hair, she was still strapped in to her seat. Painfully he turned, to see how Beverly fared, but to his horror, her entire seat was gone. Adrenaline shot through him, bringing clarity to his mind.

The shuttle had apparently rolled before coming to rest on it's side, against a large rock formation. The metal had crumpled around the unforgiving stone, and the shuttle was bent at an angle. The point of the angle was where Beverly's seat had been...

Uncooperative hands fumbled with the harness that held him to his seat. Finally he was able to release himself, and climb down, ignoring the dull pain across the front of his shoulder, the sharp lance low in his ribcage when he tried to draw a breath. The agony in his heart was far too commanding to even notice the physical pain.

He crawled along the wrecked wall of the ship, climbing over the nav console. There, wedged into the corner where the back wall to the command cabin separated it from the rear compartments, he saw a flash of copper.

Heat pressed around him, the air felt thick, heavy to breathe. She had said there wasn't much oxygen. Enough, but not a lot, he reminded himself. Deliberately he slowed his breathing, inhaling through his nose. Passing out again would help no one. He scrabbled down into the corner, the crushed wall leaving little room. He could not see her face, only the back of her head. Her body was hidden beneath the broken wreck of her seat. He pulled at the seat, but it was firmly wedged between the two walls. He realized it probably prevented the walls from crushing together completely.

"Mr. Data," His voice was rough. He could almost taste the heat. Heat that could not touch the cold ball of dread in his stomach.

"Sir." Data's voice came out with a grunt. Jean-Luc looked over to see him supporting Will's descent from his sideways chair to standing.

"As soon as you are done assisting Mr. Riker, please come help me." Will looked over to the dark corner at the sound of his Captain's distress.

"Go." He told Data.

Data nimbly moved over the debris to the Captain's side. "Sir?"

"Can you move this chair?" He couldn't even reach her jaw to find a pulse, he could not see if she was breathing. Fear threatened to push away rationality.

"Of course, Sir." Data bent to the task. At first the seat would not budge, but then with a groan of metal, he slowly, carefully lifted it off the Doctor.

Jean-Luc reached her side, carefully he pushed hair away from her face, frantically feeling for a pulse. Her face was so pale... He had to concentrate on slowing his own breathing again before he could feel anything but the tremble of his own hand. Then it was there, the steady, slight push against his fingers. He remembered to breathe.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging. He carefully ran his hands over her, neck, back, legs, arms... nothing appeared grossly injured. Still, his hands paused on either side of her ribs, should he turn her? If her neck or back were injured...

"That had better be Jean-Luc." Her husky words broke through his veil of panic.

"Beverly!" His mechanical heart was not capable of missing a beat, but it felt as if it had. He removed his hands from her ribs, realizing how intimate the touch had been. "What hurts?"

"Everything." She groaned. A pause, as she inventoried limbs and functions, as his panic pushed up his throat with bile, "But I think I'm mostly intact." She tried to push herself up. "Ow." Her right wrist buckled with a sickening crunch they both could hear.

"Should you be moving, Doctor?" Jean-Luc's voice was far from steady.

He had a point, she supposed. "Emergency Medical Kit?" She asked.

Jean-Luc found one passed in front of his face. "Thank you, Data."

He pulled the tri-corder out, detached the probe, and ran it over her prone back, neck, spine... Satisfied himself with the readings, he handed the device to her to read.

"Good." She said, weakly, but with dry humor. "I was right, I'll live." Reaching her left hand for him, she let him pull her up into sitting position. When she closed her eyes for a moment against the pain and nausea, his hand tightened on hers.

"I'm OK, Jean-Luc." Her grip tightened in return. Her eyes opened, clear and lucid. "How is everyone else?"

He tried to wave away her hand with the scanner. Saw her eyes narrow. She pressed lightly on his collarbone. "This hurt?" He winced. Gently, she probed his ribs. "How about here?" Solemnly he nodded. "Well, you'll live too. But be careful until I can fix you." Her eyes were soft on his for a moment, trying to convey a message just beyond his grasp.

Deanna's drawn out "Ouch" came from the front of the shuttle. Without words, Jean-Luc helped Beverly to stand and move to them, careful of her right wrist. The heat inside the shuttle was oppressive, exacerbating the low oxygen levels.

Will stood, as if guarding over Deanna, his left arm hanging at an awkward angle. "Shoulder?" Beverly inquired. His affirmative nod was short, his concern obviously for the Counsellor, not himself. Deanna sat on the 'floor,' a cut on her temple with colourful bruising already forming. A run of the tricorder over her showed only minor bruising and scrapes apart from a concussion.

The Doctor let out a breath. Things could have gone much, much worse. It spoke to Will's exemplary skill that any of them were alive to walk away from the landing. "I think we should get outside. Without life support, the shuttle is nothing but a solar oven."

They nodded their agreement. Data led them to the side doors-now above their heads. Releasing the magnets that held the table in place, he moved it beneath the portal. "I had three of a kind." Will said, noting the cards and chips scattered everywhere in the room.

"Sure you did." Deanna teased, drawing grins from Beverly and Will.

Data climbed up and pushed the doors open. "I believe I'll be able to open the cargo doors from the outside." He said. "It would appear it will be easier for all of you to exit there than climb,"

"Thank you, Mr. Data." The Captain said. Relief clear on his face. The air coming through the opened doors was slightly cooler than the sweltering interior. The weary and battered crew clambered their way to the back of the shuttle, finding the bay door opened enough for them to squeeze out by the time they arrived.

"Data, would you please fetch me as much of the emergency medical supplies as you can find?" The Doctor quickly triaged her patients in her mind. "Into the shade... " she directed the other three.

She approached Deanna again, "Any dizziness or blurred vision?" She asked, peering into her eyes.

"No." Deanna started to nod, but thought better of it. "Just a whopper of a headache."

Will had settled close to the Counsellor. Sweat dripped off his forehead, down his nose. "I'm afraid Data is going to have to set that shoulder Will..."

He grinned at her. "Too tall for you, huh, Doc?"

She scanned him again with the tricorder. "It will feel better once it's back in place. Plus, then we'll be able to get your jacket off." He rested against the bottom of the shuttle, which was now upright, behind him.

The captain was sitting on one of the sideways landing gear wheels. She approached, as Data came to her with the med kits. "See to the others first." He said.

"Don't be ridiculous. Your injuries are the most serious-broken ribs can collapse a lung, in this oxygen... " She placed the bag down next to him on the huge wheel, rummaged in it with her left hand.

"I can make it an order." His voice was menacingly soft. He gazed out on the torrid landscape, not looking at her.

"You wouldn't dare." Her anger rose, matching the heat of the desert around them.

"Please." His tone softened, surprised her with entreaty. "Treat them first." Now he did look at her, green, gold and brown mixed in his eyes. He placed his hand over hers where it rested on his arm.

She could refuse his orders, but she could not resist him when he asked like this.

"All right." She conceded, not hiding her discomfiture, "But let's get your jacket off first." She unzipped it for him, carefully pulling the sleeve down over his injured collarbone. She frowned at the bruising his tank top revealed.

He knew that frown. He closed his eyes. "Please." He repeated, quietly. He knew she could override him. He felt her fingers brush his arm. Heard the anger and confusion in her voice.

"Fine." She stepped away from him to tend to Deanna and Will.

He watched her, from hooded eyes. He needed the time to regain control of his emotions, to rein in the stark fear and relief that had flooded him by turns just moments before. He felt like he had been punched in the gut, and it had nothing to do with his ribs or collarbone or the low oxygen level of the air.

He watched her familiar, competent movements as she did her job impeccably. Deanna had helped her remove her own jacket. The toned, graceful lines of her bared arms fascinated him beyond measure. They always had, when he had occasion to see her in formal or casual dress that bared them...

He heard them chatting, unable to hear the words distinctly, but could tell by the tone they really were allright. All of them. The comfortable banter assuaged his worry, lifted one weight from his shoulders.

She finished with Deanna, then motioned Data over to help set Will's shoulder. She administered a hypospray, then directed Data, who quickly righted the dislocation. Will's expression softened when the procedure completed.

He watched as she gently helped Will out of his jacket. An unfamiliar curl of jealousy niggled at him when her hands traced Will's bare shoulder and arm, dipping beneath the tank-top to check him.

The heat shimmered around them. A different sort of heat rose within him when she twirled her long copper hair into a knot, securing it with the stylus from the tricorder. Since there was no chance of a cold shower, he began to calculate the time it would have taken their distress beacon to reach the Enterprise, and how long it would be before they should expect contact. Long hand. 


	3. Chapter 3

But his mouth went dry from more than the weather when she approached him finally. Sweat darkened the front of her uniform tank, creating a vee, causing the material to cling to the inner rise of her breasts. He looked away, before she could catch him leering. As she drew near, he could smell her sweat, mingled with soap and shampoo and the light fragrance she wore.

She stood in front of him, hypospray in hand. Wordlessly, he obliged her, turning so she could administer the analgesic. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

"Probably not." His voice was hoarse. She rummaged in the medkit, coming out with a bone knitter. "Should we not fix your wrist first, Doctor?"

"No." She nodded, a rueful grin lifting her lips. "I'll only be tempted to use it in that case. And I shouldn't." She stepped into him again, her thigh brushing his as she ran the knitter over his collar bone. He closed his eyes, With him sitting and her standing, her chest was far too accessible.

She felt him tense. "Does that hurt? It shouldn't..."

No, _that_ didn't hurt. But something else was going to be painful in a few moments. He shifted, but that only emphasized her leg's contact with his. He opened his eyes to see the freckles that scattered over her chest and arms. He felt sweat rolling down his spine.

A few more moments passed. "There." She said, tentatively prodding the area with her fingers. "Better?"

Not trusting his voice, he nodded.

"Remember, this isn't the same as in sickbay. All I did was close the break, it's not as strong a repair as if I had a real regenerator."

He tried to focus on her words, but she was tugging at his shirt now, gingerly pulling it up from his trousers, lifting it above his injured ribs. He could not stifle a groan when her fingers touched his side.

"Do you need more analgesic?" She looked at him, her face level with his as she bent to inspect the injury.

"Ah... no." he rasped. "It's just... the heat."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. She had to adjust their positions to properly get to the area with her left hand. She stood between his legs.

His torture was complete.

Her freckled shoulder taunted his mouth. His teeth practically itched with need. He closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate on anything else. The stifling hot air seemed to press around them like a sentient being. When the hum of the instrument ended, he felt her fingers brushing across his ribs. He could not stop the shudder that ran through him.

"Jean-Luc?" He opened his eyes. Her fathomless blue eyes searched his, "Are you-" she broke off, reading the smoldering in his gaze. Her lips parted, she might have whispered, "Oh" as his look stirred something deep within her.

She had placed her hand on his thigh when she turned to face him. He discreetly lifted it, clearing his voice. "Shall I see to your wrist now?"

The tables were turned. She finally saw the naked longing and relief in his face when he looked at her.

Oh.

"Um, yes. Thank you." Suddenly she was as parched as the sand and dusty grey-brown rock surrounding them. For long seconds she stood, just looking at him. Then she broke out of her trance, pulling away with a pang of regret.

She loaded a hypospray and handed it to him; Moved closer and tipped her head, baring her neck. Thankfully the voices of the others broke through, because he might have set his lips where the medication was supposed to be administered.

Her expression softened, he had not realized how painful her injury was, she had disregarded herself while treating the others.

Taking a deep breath, she returned to the medkit. She brought him a two piece splint, and a roll of elastic tape bandage. All their technology, and field trauma care had not evolved past this since the twentieth century.

"We can't knit the bones here, the wrist is too delicate, they have to be lined up perfectly and we don't have the equipment." She explained to him, her voice husky. "If you'll just wrap it, that will keep it until the Enterprise arrives."

He nodded. "Here," He motioned, rising. "Sit."

She exchanged places with him, holding her right arm out. He stepped forward, his knee bumping hers. Their positions put his chest at her eye level. Sweat had moulded the soft knit tank top to his torso. His muscles were well defined, testament to his discipline in his personal life.

His fingers on hers, his hand cradling hers, despite the injury, started a quiver somewhere under her diaphragm.

She placed the splint, then held it with her left hand so he could start the wrap. His overwhelming male scent surrounded her. Sweat and soap and... Jean-Luc. She studiously watched him wrap, his careful fingers mesmerizing her. Their fingers brushed when he had enough wrapped, before she could pull hers away. Then he cradled her right arm, just above the wrist, steadying it while he finished. She actually felt the backs of her knees sweat when he absently stroked his thumb on the soft flesh of her inner arm.

"All right?" She realized he'd spoken.

"Um..." She found she had to wet her lips. "Yes. You paid attention in class." Her eyes were still glued to his hands, his fingers... her thoughts straying to where else those fingers would be careful and competent.

He had not let go of her arm, his thumb still traced back and forth. She never knew that was an erotic zone for her. The air seemed to roll in waves all around them, the white dwarf radiating the last of it's life.

They remained there, dumbly, for what seemed ages until Data brought them two bottles of water from the emergency rations. Beverly expected Jean-Luc to spring apart from her, caught in the act. He did not. In fact, he accepted his water from Data with thanks, then sat next to her.

Close enough that his arm rubbed against hers. Close enough she felt the bunched muscles of his biceps clearly. Close enough to melt her in ways the searing heat could not.

She distracted herself by looking over to where Will and Deanna were. Despite the heat, they too sat very closely. Will leaned back against the bottom of the shuttle, Deanna sitting more upright, but with her hand on Will's thigh. Their connection was clear.

Maybe it was some property of the white dwarf. Some energy or radiation it was throwing off as a last gasp before it's death... No, those two had been pulling away and pushing together since she'd known them. Twin moons in elliptical orbit, sometimes taking the wide path, but always coming back to each other.

Whereas she and Jean-Luc... she sighed into the shimmering heat. Felt his infinitely hotter warmth against her. Her wrist throbbed as the analgesic started to wear off. She knew Will's shoulder, Deanna's head, and Jean-Luc's collarbone and ribs would be aching. She hoped the Enterprise was not too far out...

Giving voice to her thoughts, Jean-Luc said, "They should have received our distress call by now."

"I hope so." Her voice was weary, her pounding head reminding her she had lost consciousness for a time. "You don't think they'll be caught in the... whatever it was... we encountered in the debris field?" It had not even occurred to her before now.

"If they follow procedure-and Worf will-they will come to us first. They knew what we were investigating when we sent the distress beacon." He amazed her, reaching his hand up to push a loose lock of hair off her sweaty cheek.

"I thought I'd lost you." His voice quiet, but rife with feeling, he looked at her. "I had a very bad moment when I could not get to you, and did not know if you were breathing." His fingers had lingered after tucking her hair behind her ear. His thumb now feathered her lips.

She was lost for words, lost in the hazel storm of his eyes.

"I know you said you didn't want this..." His glance followed his thumb, to her lips.

She reached up her left hand, capturing his. "I didn't say I didn't want it." She whispered, anguish clear.. "I said maybe we should be afraid."

To her horror, she felt tears building in her eyes. They had danced around each other, ignored what had happened after that. She never meant she didn't want it, but once she understood how he had interpreted her answer, once she knew how badly she had hurt him, she did not know how to go back and fix it.

His eyes came back up to meet hers. Astonishment and hope warred on his features, tempered with caution. He couldn't stand it if she was toying with him. Leading him on... teasing him... again... he admitted. He felt like she had led him on and then thrown him into the vacuum of space to suffocate when she had walked away from him.

"Afraid of what?" He finally asked aloud the question that haunted him since.

"Afraid of what happens if we give in to this. Afraid of the strength of it... " She could not explain what she felt; the enormity of the fear within her that once she gave herself to him, once she took him to herself, she would never be able to stand without him again. That together they were exponentially so much more than what they were individually-and once they became **that**, they would not survive apart. She had never admitted they already _were._

"I cannot imagine being afraid of anything more than I was afraid I had lost you just an hour ago." His voice was uncharacteristically hoarse. "To have lost you without ever being able to love you..."

Fire hotter than any dying star burned in her at his words, at the look of longing in his eyes. She could have lost him just as easily. Every day of their lives was a risk, just one they became accustomed to. She acknowledged part of her would die now if she lost him.

She still could not find the right words, all she could do was repeat, "I never said I didn't want it..." Her hand let go of his, raised to his face, traced his cheekbone. Her fingers stopped on his lips.

And then he did the one thing that astonished her beyond any other. He kissed her. In front of Data, Deanna and Will. In the shadow of a wrecked shuttle, on a planet that might have been the understudy for hell, he kissed her.

It started out gentle, questing... But once she got over her shock, she moved into him, met him, opened to him...

Deanna did not need to open her eyes to know what was finally going right between her Captain and her best friend. Her hand on Will's thigh squeezed gently. He glanced down at her, and saw the beatific smile on her lips. She sent him just a glimpse of the sizzle of emotion going on in the shade next to them and he looked over. A huge grin lit his features. Not one for voyeurism, he settled his arm around Deanna's shoulder, and closed his eyes. Now was a great time for an old fashioned siesta while they waited for the Enterprise.

Data had been dutifully and efficiently gathering together the emergency supplies that had been strewn over the inside of the shuttle. While his calculations had the Enterprise making contact within the next two hours, they needed to be prepared for a longer wait. He was bringing an additional supply of water to the shaded area where his crewmates rested.

As he came out of the cargo bay door, he noted the silence. As he rounded the corner, he saw Commander Riker and Counsellor Troi with smiles on their faces, and their eyes closed. He looked over to where the Captain and the Doctor were seated, and raised an eyebrow. He had always noted a certain extra tension between the two officers, but upon inquiry, had learned of their long history and shared past. Now though, the tension between them made much more sense. He quietly placed the water down next to the shuttle, and retreated back within. He was sure there were more supplies he could gather.

The Captain and the Doctor finally separated slightly, the low oxygen was not conducive to extended kissing. Jean-Luc's hands had wandered from her hair, to her throat, to her arms... one of his hands rested now on her ribcage, _just_ below her breast, restless on the soft knit tank top.

Her right arm had found it's way over his shoulder, her elbow resting, her arm supporting the injured wrist, the non-injured fingers finding and playing with the close cropped hair that fringed his scalp. Her left hand rested against his heart, her palm burning, branding him.

Catching his breath, he said so very softly, "You didn't mean you didn't want this?"

She leaned her forehead against his, each slick with sweat, closing her eyes. "No. I definitely didn't mean I did not _want_ this."

It took a few moments for a muffled chirp to make it's way to their awareness. Eyes widened simultaneously when they recognized it. Pulling gently away from the Doctor, the Captain fumbled for his jacket, reaching for his communicator. A tap, then, "Enterprise to Captain Picard..." in Worf's low rumble.

"Picard here, Mr. Worf. It's good to hear from you." His eyes met the Doctor's, full of promises of things to come. "Five to beam up."

A shimmer of icy blue captured them, whisking them away from the white heat.


End file.
